plausible deniability: A Tale of Two Weekends

July 10, 2006

A Tale of Two Weekends

Just got back from a cottage weekend with some of the IT boys from work. The weekend and the cottage was gorgeous. High 20s every day and sparkling clear water. There was swimming, fishing and a barbecuing. Being the first time I've fished, I'd say it was pretty successful. I caught a 2-3 pound small mouth bass. The speed highlight for the weekend was when rented a boat and started towing a tube.

The boys did their best to try to kill anyone who decided to try the tube. My experience consisted of a number of high speed turns - whipping the tube around at a ludicrous speed - as well as plenty of big air going over waves. At one point, they actually got the tube flipped upside down. I held on for about 10 seconds trying to right myself with my feet while my body was buffeted by the water. I figure I was almost there, but also realized how dangerous it actually was and let go. My personal favorite besides that was when they spun the boat towards me when I was temporarily stopped in the water. The sudden spin and snap did wonders in testing the strength of my heart.

This spectacular weekend reminded me of another dangerous weekend that we had.

A few weekends ago, the son of a local man organized a rafting trip for his 30 closest friends. Moyse, Winnie, Norm, Cheryl and I had the pleasure of being on the invite list to this exclusive gathering. I enjoyed the time I was there quite a bit - in spite of the bitter cold.

Where we really got our money's worth was actually on the river. Our guide, had just returned from a raft guiding hiatus of a few years. Apparently, he had only gotten back into it as recently as the May 24 long weekend. Our first features were rather typical of the experience. Fast moving water, big waves - pretty exhilarating. The next run was where the real fun started.

Before we started our journey, there were some basic commands we had to learn. Some were pretty self evident: Easy forward and hard forward are just paddling at different intensities. The other important command we learned was get down. That maneuver consisted of crouching down as low as possible in the center of the boat and holding on as tightly as possible. Usually, getting told to get down is a prelude to the raft entering a potentially dangerous situation.

"So the next rapids are pretty easy. We'll be sticking to the right side of the river doing easy and hard forwards. I won't call get down unless something terribly wrong happens." the guide explained.

"I wonder what terribly wrong means?" I thought aloud.

The guide replied: "Well, you know how I said we were staying on the right hand side? Well to the left, there's something called the Greyhound Bus Eater. It's a circulator - water hits the rock and goes back on itself round and round. A 12 person boat went over it this morning and everyone fell out. There were some sprained ankles and a lot of scrapes."

So we headed towards the rapids.

We went along and everything was proceeding as planned. It was a little rough, but that was to be expected - the exhilaration factor was fully present. Moyse is infamous around Borough and I for being, at times, a little less than graceful: I had predicted earlier in the trip that he would be the first to fall from the boat. My prediction was accurate. Somehow, during the bumps, Rob had fallen half out. He was in the spot beside me on the front right of the boat, so I moved over to help pull him out. Fung, who was behind Moyse, also went to help out. We were struggling with the mechanics of actually pulling him in, so the guide came to the front as well. No sooner had we pulled Rob back into the boat came the yell:

"GET DOWN!"

The guide dived to the front of the boat and started paddling sideways furiously. During the confusion of the Rob rescue, we had drifted towards the left of the river. After about 20 seconds of the guide's paddling, the call of hard forward rang out. We pulled safely around the Greyhound Bus Eater and parked on the shore for a bit to wait for the rest of the boats.

Another instruction we received before going on the rapids was the side to swim to in the event that we were thrown to the boat. For the next feature we went over the guide let us know not to swim to either side if we fell out. We were supposed to let the current take us downstream to get picked up by the boat, as there were spiky rocks on either side of the river - we didn't even want the boat to go near them. The boat was inflatable, thus prone to popping.

The first thing we did was ram the boat squarely into the spiky rocks. No punctures, luckily.

The very last rapid we encountered was the second largest commercially rafted in the world. We had been in a raft caravan up until this point. For the last rapid though, we were to go through single file. We were pulled aside to the shore for the briefing.

"This rapid consists of three different waves, one after another. It'll be easy forwards and hard forwards throughout. Now, normally we tell you to hold on to your paddle if you fall out of the boat. If you fall out here, forget your paddle, forget the boat, forget your friends, forget your family, forget everything and swim as hard as you can to the right-hand side.

You remember the Greyhound Bus Eater? Well, downstream to the left there's something similar to that. There's a shallow rock bed followed by a circulator that's more shallow than the Bus Eater. It's like going over a cheese grater into a washing machine."

We watch a first boat go in: First wave. Second wave. Third wave. Executed perfectly. The next boat goes: First wave. Second wave. A bit of jostling and some people half in half out. Third wave. Everyone is fantastic.

Next is our turn: One wave. Hit perfectly. It was a rise followed by a sudden drop, pretty damn cool. Well, it was until we started turning sideways. Second wave. Our boat is essentially sideways and vertical now. I see Moyse fall into the middle of the boat. Then I'm over the edge.

Underwater was serene. Light filtered through the turbulence above. I guess adrenaline had taken over, as I felt I could hold my breath forever. I looked around and thought to myself: "When I surface, I'm supposed to swim to the right. Okay. Figure out which way is right and swim." I kicked a little and surfaced... only to see that right was 100 meters away... and over the rapids... and I was still being pulled quickly downstream. I took two strokes and realized that there was no way I was going to the right. So I took two strokes to the left side of the river and noticed that there were jaggy rocks all over that side. There was no way that I was going to make it up over that and not be cut up. I stopped to reassess my options. Above the din of the water, I heard calls to swim towards the boat, which was now downstream from me.

Once in the boat, I noticed that Moyse and Winnie were missing. We pulled over to the shore and our guide ran off to find them. Apparently during my spill Moyse, Winnie and Cheryl were tossed as well. Cheryl stayed near the boat and was recovered immediately. Later we found out that Rob and Winnie had been pulled upstream and were caught in a whirlpool. It was a brilliant time.

Posted at 4:16 AM
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A Tale of Two Weekends